Keeping Christmas

by Rebecca Blevins

  "You're right. You do look a lot like your great-grandmother." He moved back a bit as he met her eyes. Still too close for safety. "She's beautiful."

  For several seconds, neither of them moved. His breathing came faster, and he felt an almost magnetic pull as he resisted moving his gaze to her lips. He didn’t want to scare her off.

  Finally, she blushed and dropped the locket, breaking their connection. Wes quickly stood and reached out a hand to help her up, then led her to the kitchen. Paige settled herself behind the counter on a stool, wrapped in the blanket, as Wes finished cubing the potatoes and added onions. He realized he had misjudged her. Paige's excitement for her Christmas traditions was really based in a deep-rooted love for her family. He wished he'd experienced that kind of belonging.

  Though he still didn't know why she was sitting in his kitchen.

  "Hey, I'm glad you're here," Wes said, "but I am wondering how you happened to be out in my neck of the woods."

  She blushed and pulled the blanket tighter around her. "It's kind of silly. Do you remember when I talked to Tristan? The little boy who came into the kitchen at the community dinner?"

  "Yes. Tristan Allan. He's a cute kid."

  "Well, I'd told him about the heart baskets we make to put on our tree, and when I was up at my parents', I packed one for him. I stopped by to see Rachel, but she wasn't there, and the man at the diner didn't know Tristan's family. I hoped you would."

  While he was glad she'd come to him for help, part of him was a little let down that she hadn't thought of him first. And that she hadn’t only stopped by because she wanted to say hello.

  Get it together, man! Why would she have come just to see him? He'd been a jerk when she'd left, though she seemed to have forgiven him.

  He realized she was studying him again with those large brown eyes, and he remembered she'd asked him a question. "Uh, yes. I do know Tristan's parents. They live out in the boonies farther than I do. Your car would never make it."

  Her face fell.

  "But," he continued without thinking, "my truck will. I'd be happy to take you out there after I get this going." He motioned to the canning jars filled with green beans and peas.

  "You can your own vegetables?" she asked.

  "Yeah. I'm no great cook, but I love the taste of vegetables from my garden. I learned how to can a few years back from the judge's wife, Aida. You can check out the basement if you want." Now why had he said that? He wasn't trying to show off.

  Paige went downstairs while he transferred the mixture to a slow cooker, added his canned vegetables, and topped it off with broth and some seasoning. No use leaving the stove on while he was out.

  Soon, Paige returned. "I'm really impressed," she remarked. "It all looks lovely—and tasty—down there. You know," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "you really should learn how to cook more than a few things with all the wonderful ingredients you have lining those shelves."

  He noticed she had a hand behind her back. "What are you hiding?" he asked her, teasing.

  She brought out a jar of pickles. "Ha, you caught me. I wasn't sure if I should ask, but I decided my love of pickles was worth the risk. Can we open these?"

  He got a fork, and she fished one out and enjoyed it immensely. She crunched on pickles while he cleaned up from his stew-making. "Yum. These are some of the best I've ever had."

  "They're Aida’s recipe. She told me an old secret—put a raspberry leaf or two in the jar, and it keeps them crisp."

  "That it does, my friend. That it does." She crunched again.

  While she used the restroom, he put on his boots and got ready to head out. It was probably a good idea to check on the Allans anyway. Jenny was about to have a baby in a few weeks, and she'd been looking pretty uncomfortable at the Christmas dinner. When Paige returned, he led her out to the truck, tossed in a shovel along with the bags of sand he kept back there for traction, and they took off.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wes hooked Paige’s car to a chain, and she watched his truck haul it out of the ditch effortlessly. There was something to be said for large tires and sandbags. He towed the Camry out to the highway, where he pulled it to the side of the road. "It'll be fine here while we go see the Allans."

  "All right. I just need to get one of the julekurver for Tristan." She paused with her hand on the truck door. "Do they have more children?"

  "Tristan has a two-year-old brother, and they’re about to have another baby."

  She should have brought extra. But maybe the two-year-old would be satisfied with a cookie. "Be right back."

  After getting the basket and a dessert plate from the car, she got back in the truck and they headed out of town the other direction. After leaving the main road and taking a few turns on side roads, Paige was increasingly glad she was in Wes’s truck. The first few turns had been blacktop, but the last two had been gravel, and the snow lay several inches deep.

  As they made one last turn, a small, rather dilapidated house greeted them. White paint peeled off the exterior, and a few old toys sat in the yard decorated with snow. Footprints led around back, where they heard the thwack of a piece of wood being split. A pitiful wisp of smoke came from the chimney.

  "Let's go around back," Wes said. "If Jenny’s resting, I don't want to wake her."

  Paige followed Wes around the small house. She knew after meeting him that he was thoughtful, but to be concerned about disturbing an expecting mother? That was very sweet.

  As they rounded the corner, a very pregnant woman wrapped in an oversized men's coat placed a piece of wood on the chopping block, then with visible effort, raised the ax and brought it down hard on the wood, splitting it in two. She stood up straight with a hand on her back, breathing heavily.

  "Jenny! Let me get that for you!" Wes ran to her and took the ax. "What's going on? Where's William?"

  "Oh, thank you, Wes." She sank down on the stump and rubbed her stomach. Her tired face was pale inside the brown hood. "William has that stomach virus. He hasn't kept much down for a couple of days. He'd planned to split this wood and get some more, but he got sick before he could."

  Wes put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "And why didn't you call me?"

  "Stop worrying, you old mother hen. We’ll be all right. He's slowly getting better. I was going to try to portion out what we have until he could go into the woods and get some. There's a downed old tree that he'd started cutting up last week, right before the storm hit on Christmas Eve." She looked up at Wes gratefully. "Thank you so much for the toys and food. Tristan and Ollie had the most wonderful Christmas. And so did we, because of you."

  Wes shrugged off the compliment. "Hey, you were doing me a favor. I don't have kids of my own, so I’m happy to help. Plus, it wasn't me. The town did it."

  She patted his hand. "Yes, but they wouldn't if it wasn't for you."

  Wes motioned to Paige. "This woman here made our community Christmas dinner possible. Paige Sorensen. She came to see Tristan."

  Paige walked over to Jenny. "It's nice to meet you. Tristan is a wonderful child. I brought him this little basket"—she held it up so Jenny could see—"and filled it with some treats for him. Unfortunately, I only brought one. I should have found out if he had any brothers or sisters."

  "Oh, how nice!" Jenny said. "He talked about you. Told us about the mouse song."

  "Yes, he listened to every word," Paige said.

  "Well, it's all right that there's only one basket. Ollie is napping now, but when he's awake, I'll make sure Tristan puts it in a safe place. Ollie would tear that apart in an instant."

  "Can Ollie have a cookie?" Paige held out the plate.

  Jenny took it and peeked under the foil. "He can, but he might have trouble getting them from me first!" She closed the foil around the plate. "Thank you. Please come in."

  After going inside, Jenny went to the bathroom while Wes disappeared into the kitchen, and Tristan came into the living room. "I remember you! Youse t
he lady who singded the mouse song!"

  He was as cute as Paige remembered. "I am! And remember I told you about the heart basket? Well, I brought you one!"

  Tristan's eyes went huge as Paige gently laid the julekurv in his little hands. He examined the shiny paper for a minute, then exclaimed, "I wuv it!" and clasped it to his heart. Paige laughed softly. If he kept loving it that way, he wouldn't have to worry about Ollie destroying his treasure—he’d make short work of it himself. Paige showed him how the basket hung on the tree, and his eyes sparkled.

  Soon, Wes came back, and Jenny returned from the bathroom. "Jenny," Wes said, "I'm going to take Paige to her car, then I'll be back to chop some more wood. I could use the exercise, being cooped up in the house or at work this week." Paige was sure Wes didn't know the meaning of being cooped up, since she was sure he was always doing things for people, but she only smiled to herself.

  They walked outside, and Paige stopped before they reached the truck. "I want to help. I can stack wood as well as anyone."

  She raised her gaze to meet his, and Wes's blue eyes were even bluer framed against the backdrop of cool, winter sky. "But I thought you had an event tonight."

  "I do, but I still have time." She wanted to help in whatever way she could. And the more help Wes had, the quicker the job would get done. It was getting even colder, if that were possible.

  "Well, since you want to stick around for a bit, I should tell you that I went into their kitchen to take a quick peek in their cupboards."

  At the look on Paige's face, he hastily continued, "Now, William is an old friend. We go fishing now and then. I wouldn't just walk into anyone's kitchen, but he's like family. Being a contractor, he doesn't have much work in the winter, so they live on what he makes in the warmer months. This past year was pretty lean for him, so I wanted to make sure they were okay.

  “Just as I thought, they don't have much in their cupboards, but Stephen and I have an arrangement. If I hear of someone in need, he opens up the store and we take some things to them. So it's going to be a while before we’re done."

  Was there no end to this guy’s kindness? "Of course I'll help with the wood. If I do, you'll get done faster, and then you can get to Stephen's earlier."

  Wes's face brightened. “Thank you.” He opened her door. “This means a lot to me.”

  She smiled up at him. “It’s my pleasure. Honest.”

  They got in the truck, and he pulled around the house and drove to the back by the trees, maneuvering the truck into a place near the fallen tree Jenny had talked about. He made a phone call to Stephen, then came around to Paige's side of the truck and helped her out—and into a snowdrift. It fell over the tops of her boots and slid down to the bottom where her pants were tucked in. "Ah! It's cold!"

  Wes chuckled and dusted off as much snow from her boot tops as he could. The touch of his gloves brushed against her legs and made her feel warm inside. And fuzzy.

  He straightened up and took the chainsaw out of the truck.

  Sad the moment had disappeared so fast, Paige tried to hide her disappointment. "Thanks for saving my feet from the snow!" She clapped her hands. "Let's do this!"

  "Here," he said. "Step in my boot prints. It'll help keep the snow out."

  Paige followed carefully behind him. His boots were big enough that his strategy worked quite well. They reached the old tree, and Wes sawed logs while Paige carried them to the truck and tossed them in. She was no stranger to hard work, but after a few minutes, her arms ached. Soon, Wes put the saw down and started bringing the bigger pieces to the truck.

  When they were done, Paige was sweating. Her hair had come partially loose from its ponytail, and it stuck out all around her face and coat. She stood by a big drift, watching Wes put up the truck gate, then she figured Why not? and fell backwards into the drift. She laughed and stared up at the bare branches reaching their fingers toward the sky. She inhaled the sharp, slightly spicy scent of pine, exhilarating even though the cold burned her lungs.

  Wes's face appeared over hers, and she jumped. "Ha! You startled me!"

  His easy grin spread, and he drawled, "I thought maybe you'd passed out from all the hard work. A spring flower like you in the winter?" He shook his head. "Probably best to get you inside."

  He reached out his hand, and she took it. He pulled her up. "Spring flower? Why on earth would you say that?"

  Red colored his cheeks, and she could tell the blush wasn't only from the cold by the way it intensified. "Come on, Wes. Tell me!" She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, pretending to be mad.

  "Well . . . this might sound kind of stupid, but the way you looked with your hair all spread out like that, you reminded me of a daffodil, blooming in the snow." Wes stared at the ground and gave the snow a kick like a schoolboy.

  Paige didn’t know what to say. He was a poet now too? “That . . . that’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  Wes studied her face, then held her gaze, and she didn't turn away. He stepped closer and took her hand, and she glanced down at her red glove dwarfed in his black one. Her breathing came faster. She should step away. She hardly knew Wes at all.

  Paige moved her gaze back to his face, and his lips held the hint of a smile, lighting up the slight scruffiness of his face. She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, feel the roughness of it against her fingertips.

  Wes closed the space between them and dropped her hand. He pulled off a glove, and with his bare fingers, tucked some of her crazy loose hair behind her ear, under her hat. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his cool fingers barely brushing her skin, then her cheek. He took his hand away, and she opened her eyes.

  He stepped back, took off his hat, and ran a hand through his hair. Her heart was pounding, both in nervousness and in anticipation. He gave an apologetic smile. "Let's go back and drop this off. I don't want you to freeze."

  Paige had no idea what had just happened, but it would be way too easy for her to be distracted by this man.

  She still felt the touch of his hand on her cheek. What a difference his touch was to Michael’s. Night and day. Wes made her feel like something to be cherished, even for a few short moments.

  Wes escorted her to the truck and got in. As they drove back to the house, he reached over and took her hand. “I don’t know how to thank you for being so kind to the Allans. You’re quite the woman, Paige Sorensen.” He gently squeezed her hand.

  She squeezed his in return. “Right back at you, Wes Atwood. Except you’re a man.” Wes laughed, then let go of her hand to drive through the drifts.

  Chapter Twenty

  After they unloaded, split, and stacked a pile of wood, they got in the truck and headed to town. "I know you need to get back home, but are you hungry?" Wes asked. "Because I'm famished."

  Was she hungry? Paige wanted to be ladylike, but she was ravenous. "Absolutely. I could eat an entire pizza on my own."

  "Well, there’s no pizza, but we have two options. One is to stop by the diner and see if old Russ could scrounge us up a couple grilled cheese sandwiches. He's not too bad at it, though he tends to burn things, which is why Rachel hardly ever leaves him in charge."

  "What's the second choice?" Paige asked. Her stomach rumbled, and she hoped Wes couldn't hear.

  "As it so happens, I have a batch of beef stew that should be done pretty shortly. I know it's getting kind of late—it's nearly four, but if we run to Stephen's and grab some groceries to take to the Allans, we could get back to my house really quickly. You could have a fresh, hot bowl pretty darn fast. It'd fuel you for the road and your party tonight."

  What Paige hadn't said was that she had only told Gretchen she'd try to get back. Paige had been too out of sorts the night before to fully commit, especially when she'd already been given the day off. And now that she knew she'd be able to use the money her oldforeldre had left to help her pay off school, she really could afford to take vacation time now. Taking a break went against how she'd lived her life for
the past few years, but she deserved some time to think. "You know what, Wes? I'll have plenty of time. Let me go with you. I'd love to see this through."

  He couldn't hide the fact that he was pleased, and a thrill of excitement shot through her.

  They drove to Stephen's and around the back, where a balding man in a green apron waved at them from the door. "Wait here where it's warm," Wes said. "This will only take a minute. Stephen has everything ready."

  In less than five minutes, bags of groceries were loaded, and they were on their way. They reached the Allans, and Paige helped Wes unload the groceries, which included bottles of ginger ale and some anti-nausea meds. Jenny thanked them through her tears, and William managed to make it to the hallway to give his heartfelt gratitude before Jenny helped him back to bed.

  Soon, Wes and Paige were on their way back to Wes's house. They passed her car, and a pang of sadness hit her heart. She would miss this place.

  They rounded the same curve she'd trudged around on foot only hours before, and pulled up in front of the house. Newton barked from inside. Part of her wished she could live in a place just like this, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. That’s why she loved her family’s farmhouse. Out there, under plenty of trees and sky, she could think. When not distracted by fickle high school crushes.

  Paige got out of the truck, and they walked to the door. Wes unlocked it and held it open. "After you," he said, and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her inside.

  Paige smelled the delicious aroma the instant they stepped indoors. Wes washed his hands, checked the stew, and turned off the slow cooker. He dished up two large bowls and turned on the oven, then took out a tube of pre-made biscuits. Oh, no. She could do better than that. "Wait a sec," she said. Wes looked at her questioningly. "Do you have butter, flour, and baking powder?"